


Troubled Souls

by Boycott_Love



Category: Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance, Panic! at the Disco, Paramore
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Angry Sex, Death, Fight Sex, Fighting, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, Slight Violence, Unsafe Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-02
Updated: 2014-10-02
Packaged: 2018-02-17 23:22:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2326889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Boycott_Love/pseuds/Boycott_Love
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The afterlife can be pretty sweet but something will always be missing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Welcome to the Afterlife

There's always a feeling of bitterness that mixes with his blood and he can never flush it out. It runs through his veins and pumps into his cold and lonely heart. _It's_ _better_ _this_ _way_ , he thinks as he tightens his grip on the steering wheel. He tries to think back to something that could maybe talk him out of what he's about to do, but all that comes up is everything he's ruined.

The world is cruel and hates everything that is Pete Wentz, and this is his way to get relief from it all: the lives he didn't touch, the family that left him blowing in the wind like a torn flag in a post-apocalyptic ghost town, and the opportunities he let slip through his fingers.

No one will miss him when he's gone and he knows it.

He just wanted someone to give a damn about him, but life is unfair and never deals the cards he needs to win the game. Pete folds.

His foot slams down onto the gas pedal like a brick of led. The speedometer needle smoothly slides past sixty.

Seventy-five.

Eighty-two.

Ninety-four.

There's no turning back at this point as he sees the bridge approaching, growing bigger within seconds and Pete is coming in hot.

The guard rail splits in two as the bumper collides with it at just the right amount of speed and force. Pete shuts his eyes as he plummets into the deep blue river below him and clashes with its waves. Water rushes in through every possible opening, soaking the insides and drenching his clothing. It's icy cold and makes him shiver at first but he quickly gets used to the feeling and manages to keep his eyes closed. 

He sinks like a rock to the bottom of the river, accepting the fate he's chosen.

 

***

 

"Pete? Pete! You've got to open your eyes now."

The voice he hears is unrecognizable to his ears and he wonders who it belongs to. It's the only reason why he does as he's told, curiosity got the best of him. He opens his eyes and sees a pair of blue ones starting back at him. His eyes adjust to the dimly lit room and he scans the space that looks oddly familiar. Well Of course its familiar, because it's his  _bedroom_.

He's sitting Indian-style on the carpeted floor with his back against the bed and in front of him was some kid. Confusion is stirring through his head.

"I'm glad your finally awake," The boy says. "I'm Patrick, we're going to be roommates for a while."

Pete doesn't respond. This Patrick person couldn't be a day over seventeen. And more importantly, why is he in Pete's room? None of this feels real.

"Well for starters, no, what happened wasn't a dream. You really did drown in a river." Oh, so this guy's a mind reader too? Wonderful. "Second, no, you didn't survive the accident and your tragedy will be visible on you for about two months. It'll go away after that." Patrick says nonchalantly.

What the hell is this kid talking about? Okay so, yes, Pete did want to die but all of this information just sounds ridiculous. His ’tragedy will be visible', what the fuck does that even mean?

"Um, well, do you want me to show you around?" The boy asks awkwardly while he gets to his feet and offers his hand. Pete doesn't take it and stands on his own, causing Patrick to duck his head and shove his hands into his pockets after his polite gesture gets shot down. Pete absolutely does not care.

"I think I know how to get around my own room." Pete finally says something, even if his words sound sour and irritable.

"There's more to this place than just your room, dumbass," Patrick shoots back, heading for the door. "C'mon, let's go." 

 

Everything is different outside of the room. The hallway is huge and kind of reminds Pete of a really fancy hotel or a high class boarding school he's only seen in movies. As they travel through the hall, Pete notices the other people don't look very normal.

There was a girl that walked by who had obvious stab wounds to her face and neck but somehow could function properly, a man had a chunk of his side missing, (it appears to be a shark attack) and someone else was practically decapitated. It's like a huge Halloween bash that's been thrown by the makeup department of a horror film.

But Pete still didn't believe he could be dead. He felt like nothing had happened, like the whole 'drowning in the river' incident was just a really vivid dream or something. Or maybe what's happening right now is a dream, or maybe...okay, no more thinking. It's giving him a headache.

Pete pretends to listen as Patrick babbled on about the number of floors and the options for entertainment during their free time. 

They descend down a few flights of stairs and end up in a lobby of some kind. Instead of Patrick guiding Pete through the other hallways, he simply points in different directions and says what's at the end of each one.

"Okay, down there is the dining hall, we don't need to eat but some like the option." He points in another direction. "Down there's a library, down that way is a gym and down this one is a playroom for the kids. Any questions Pete?" He says monotonously.

"Uh, yeah, when am I going to wake... what'd you just call me?" He's just now noticing that Patrick has called him by name but doesn't remember ever introducing himself.

Patrick rolls his eyes and sighs. "I was told your name when I was assigned to be your roommate."

"What do I need a roommate for, you supposed to be watching me to make sure I don't do anything stupid?"

"Yeah okay, newsflash: people constantly die, it gets crowded. And what stupid thing could you possibly do, kill yourself? Last time I checked, you only die once."

"Fuck you. None of that actually happened." Pete's trying to convince himself more than anything.

Patrick actually laughs, _laughs_ , at him like he's the most hilarious thing that ever existed on the face of the earth. Seriously, what the fuck?

"Dude, look at yourself in the mirror sometime." He giggles a little more before finally settling down. "Tell you what, whenever you go to sleep, let me know if you wake up dead or not. If your heart beats, I will personally shit bricks." Patrick heads down the hall to the cafeteria, laughing to himself on the way there, leaving Pete to stand awkwardly in the middle of the lobby. 

Pete already hates that little shit.

 

Pete returns to his room on the third floor and searches for any kind of reflective surface. He pulled the drawers of his nightstand open, searches the shelves in his closet, and even checks under his bed in which he only finds various sizes of dust bunnies. After ten minutes of looking, he comes up empty handed.

Pete huffs out a breath in frustration and plops onto his bed, facing the ceiling. The familiarity and comfort make him feel content. He distractedly combs his fingers through his hair and- what the hell, is his hair wet? _This_ _dream_ _gets_ _weirder_ _by_ _the_ _second_ , Pete thinks.

"Pete." Patrick is leaning against the door frame where his room and Pete's room are conjoined, like those motels that have a door leading to the next room. Whoever decided that those were a good idea should be kicked in the shins. 

Patrick has a small mirror in his hand. He walks over to the side of Pete's bed and holds the mirror up for Pete to see. Immediately, he sits up straight.

His face was a sickly pale blue color and his lips were a darker shade of said color. Water ran down his face where it was dripping from the tips of his hair, which was soaking wet. He looked inhuman.

He didn't know what to say, he was absolutely speechless. This can't be real, it can't be.

"Punch me in the face." Pete says and it catches Patrick off guard.

"Pete it's- wait, what? Why?"

"It'll wake me up, just do it." He closes his eyes and prepares himself as much as he possibly can.

The smirk that appears on Patrick's face meant that he was up to no good. Patrick knows that you can't wake from a dream you're not having as well as anyone else with common sense should. But Pete is literally _asking_ for it, so he decides to give Pete what he asks for. Maybe it'll knock some sense into him.

He reels his right arm back, fingers curled into a tight fist and swings full-force, hooking it right into Pete's chin. The loud clocking sound of Patrick's knuckles colliding with Pete's skull rings in their ears. Pete is barely able to hold himself upright Patrick hit him so hard. He groans as he rubs his jaw, attempting to soothe the pain away, but disappointment sets in when he opens his eyes and Patrick is in his view with his arms crossed over his chest. Oddly enough, he looks more pissed than Pete is.

"Why didn't it work?" Pete frowns.

"Because you're an idiot." Patrick says. "Seriously Pete, open your fucking eyes. This isn't a dream, you aren't imagining things, and this...” he makes a gesture, signifying everything around them with his hands. "... is real. You drowned, okay, It's written all over you." Patrick bends down to get eye level with Pete, supporting himself with his hands on his knees. He peers into Pete's eyes angrily. "You're dead." He puts bluntly, emphasizing the last word. "Get used to it." He storms off into his separate room and slams the door behind him.

Pete doesn't get why Patrick is so angry with him. If anyone should be boiling over with rage it should be Pete, he didn't sign up for this. But Pete's more disappointed than upset. He drove over the edge to his death so he could rot in the ground where he couldn't do any more harm, not return to his old bedroom in zombie form.

If you ask Pete, this is complete bullshit.

 

***

 

Patrick heads across the hall to visit his friend Joe Trohman. 

They used to bunk together, once upon a time, but because of the death rate getting higher by the minute, all of the single rooms had to be split into two. People were moved around and were given new roommates but luckily Joe only moved across the hall.

Joe and Patrick also shared a death.

It was only three weeks ago, but it felt as if it has been only days since it happened.

 

Patrick had been driving Joe home one night. Joe was going to stay over for a few days during summer vacation and after arriving at Patrick's house, he realized he'd forgotten a few essential things.

Joe asked if he could borrow some of Patrick's underwear but Patrick refused and said that it was really gross for anyone to share underwear, so he suggested to take Joe back to his house for a few minutes to get the rest of his things.

The drive over wasn't so bad. Joe ran inside and grabbed some underwear, socks, and his toothbrush, then quickly ran back out to Patrick's car without waking his parents.

The drive back to Patrick's started out smoothly. They had music on and were reminiscing about their previous year of school, a steady conversation.

They had the green light while going through an intersection and because of the time of night, there were hardly any other cars on the street. The two were about halfway through the intersection when something bright appears in Patrick's peripheral vision, making him turn his head towards the disturbance. He gets an eyeful of two intensely bright white lights before they get too close for comfort. There's another car heading straight into the side of Patrick's at an overwhelmingly fast speed. 

Everything seemed to move in slow motion.

The car crashes directly into Patrick's side, bending the metal of the door into a sharp point. It stabs into Patrick's flesh and breaks three of his ribs, turning them into nothing but crumbling bits of bone. Joe's head whips to the side and slams into the window, instantly knocking him unconscious.

The sharp edge of the metal continues to drive itself into Patrick's body, skin and muscle ripping apart. A jagged edge of one of Patrick's broken ribs punctures his left lung.

Shards of glass fly through the air slicing any shred of skin it comes in contact with. A piece of glass from Joe's window, the size of a large knife, imbeds itself into the side of his neck, right into his jugular and ripping it wide open.

Then everything stops. Like someone has put the whole world on pause. Both boys pass on before any help arrives.

Neither Patrick or Joe know if the other driver survived.

 

Patrick hates having a constant reminder of his death lingering on his body, a giant gaping hole the size of a football on his left side, revealing his insides to anyone with eyes. He can't wait until his two months are up so it'll finally disappear.

He knocks on Joe's door then awaits an answer. Joe opens the door a moment later, inviting Patrick inside.

"What's up, dude," Joe greets, sitting on his bed while Patrick takes the bean bag and drags it over in front of Joe then plops into it. "Your new roommate ship in yet?"

"Yeah, he did actually, and he's such a fucking asshole." Patrick says and Joe just snorts in response. "Speaking of roommates, where's yours?"

"He's in the library," Joe's roommate, Andy, was an alright guy. It was weird that Andy would be in the library though, Patrick didn't take him to be much of a bookworm. But the only downside to residing in this place was that there wasn't a public TV room, or something. You were lucky if the room you stayed in had its own TV. Or a gaming system for that matter. "Said he was tired of being cooped up in his room. I told him to go to the dining hall instead, because hardly anyone ever goes into the library, but he insisted on picking up a book. Where's your new buddy?"

"Buddy? Oh no, we are far from being friendly with each other. He's kind of whiney, he's a jerk, and he can't accept the fact that he's dead."

"Well, every newbie has to adjust to death, Patrick. Remember when you finally realized you died?"

Patrick definitely remembers that. He literally stayed in bed for three days, thinking of all the things he'd never have the pleasure of even looking at ever again. "Yeah, but he has this idea engraved into his brain that he's in a dream. I _wish_ this was all a dream. Just wait until reality sets in."

"Some take death better than others. Example: you, my friend, take death _horribly_."

Patrick can't argue with that. "I guess you're right."

"'Course I am. I'm gonna head down to the dining hall, wanna come with?" Joe gets up from the bed and stretches, his arms raised high above his head.

"No thanks, I think I'll go back to my room and sleep for a little while." Patrick gets to his feet. "Whenever you see Andy, tell him I said hi."

"Sure thing."Joe says.

Joe walks over to his door and opens it, allowing Patrick to exit first, then they go separate ways.

 

As soon as Patrick enters his room, he falls face first onto his bed, feeling at ease knowing that he doesn't have to deal with his crappy roommate. But the feeling doesn't last nearly as long as Patrick hoped it would.

Someone knocks on the conjoining door and something tells him that it's the very person he doesn't want to speak to. But he says to come in nonetheless.

The door opens slightly and Pete pokes his head inside, still dripping wet.

"What do you want, Pete?" Patrick asks without lifting his head, his voice muffled from where he's faced down on his pillow. Good thing he doesn't need to breathe.

Pete quietly steps all the way into Patrick's room and closes the door behind him. "So, how long until I stop leaking?"

Patrick lifts his head and looks at Pete directly. "Two months. I've already told you this, weren't you listening?"

"Not particularly." Pete admits. "What, uh, what happened to you? You know, if you don't mind me asking."

How in the hell did Pete not notice the huge open wound ripped into Patrick's side, seriously, who could miss it? But Patrick guesses he could share his story for a few moments.

Patrick sits up on his bed, swings his legs over the side of the bed and gets to his feet. Pete steps a little closer, standing by the foot of Patrick's bed.

"My friend and I were in a car accident." He lifts one side of his tattered shirt, revealing the disgusting hole in his flesh. Pete stares at it, wide eyed and unbelieving. "A broken rib punctured my lung causing severe internal bleeding." He releases the shirt and the hem falls back down into place. "How about you, how'd you drown?"

"I, um, drove into a river."

Patrick's brow furrowed. "On purpose?"

"Maybe?"

"Let me guess, rough life, you think no one loves you, depressed, am I in the right ball park?"

"Fuck you kid, don't try to think you can read me like a fucking book. You don't know shit about me!" Pete begins to raise his voice and gets up in Patrick's face. Patrick has no right to say anything about Pete's life, no matter how right he is.

Patrick doesn't flinch. "Don't call me 'kid'." He spoke calmly. "Now get out of my fucking face before I punch you in you in your goddamned throat."

Pete crosses his arms over his chest and stays right where he is. Patrick glares with daggers in his eyes.

"Move Pete." Patrick talks with a little more threat in his voice, but Pete stays put.

"I asked twice." Patrick states. He lands a lightening quick jab directly to Pete's Adam's apple. Pete's hands fly up to his throat as he gags and chokes from the impact of Patrick's fist.

Pete falls to his knees, trying his best to recollect from his temporarily damaged esophagus.

"I asked twice." Patrick repeats. He turns on his heel and calmly makes his way to the door. "You'd better be gone by the time I get back, Wentz." He says before exiting his room.

Pete looks up at the door as Patrick leaves. He should probably learn to pick his battles more wisely, Patrick is way more dangerous than he appears to be.

Pete's been here for six hours and has been punched twice by the same person in that time frame. He should've known this would happen though, he tends to make everyone hate him without even trying. What a wonderful gift to bear. 

But this would probably be the first time he made someone hate him and didn't _really_ hate them in return. And, then again, Pete is alone and Patrick is the only person he knows here. Pete is being careless. If he wants the chance to make friends he should probably start with his heavy-handed roommate. Although, Pete wouldn't be Pete if he didn't fuck up a few times in the process.

 

***

 

For the next week, Patrick avoids Pete like the fucking plague.

If Pete shows up in the dining hall while Patrick's there, Patrick will immediately get up and leave, taking his half-eaten food and dumping it on the way out. If Pete walked down the hall toward him, Patrick would cut the nearest corner to keep from even being in the same vicinity as him.

It's not like he's being subtle about it either, in fact, Patrick is being so obvious that the small group he sits with in the dining hall has taken notice. He wouldn't be surprised if the entire building knew about it. 

"What is the deal with you two?" Joe asks. He knew Patrick disliked his roommate but didn't think he'd actually avoid him altogether. That kind of stuff was so highschool. "I mean, you stay in the room right next to him. You can't dodge him forever."

"Yeah, Patrick," Andy agrees. "It's also pretty childish."

"Okay, so if you and Joe got into a fight every time one of you opened your mouth, you wouldn't stop talking to each other?" Patrick tries to make a point but Joe pokes a hole in it.

"Talking? Maybe. But actually leaving every time Andy shows up would get annoying, for both of us. And we practically stay in the same room, some kind of confrontation would be bound to happen eventually."

"Just kiss and make up already." Brendon chimes in. Brendon stayed on the fourth floor directly above Patrick with his boyfriend Ryan. The two had met a week after Brendon's arrival and clicked automatically. They both had been there for over two months, so the remnants of Ryan dying in a house fire and Brendon being in a coma for two years before being cut off of life support, were completely gone. "What's his name again, P, P-something?"

"Pete." Patrick clarifies.

"Right. Just try to be neutral with him, if you're nothing but nice then he'll get clingy and if your a total dick then he'll be one right back, try to balance it out."

"Is this how you make it work with Ryan?" Patrick asks.

Brendon nods.

"So you want me and my roommate to become an old married couple, is what you're saying?"

Brendon glares at Patrick as the other two chuckle at his response.

"But, seriously," Andy says as he pushes his glasses back up onto the bridge of his nose. "Brendon's right, balance it out. Pete can't be that bad, right?"

As if on queue, Pete enters from the far side of the dining hall, scanning for an empty seat.

"Speak of the devil." Joe says, causing Patrick to turn his head in the direction his gaze.

"Shit." Patrick mumbles to himself as he gets up from his seat, taking wide steps as he makes his escape in the opposite direction of Pete.

"Remember what I said, Stump." Brendon calls after him, hoping Patrick was still in earshot.

 

***

 

Pete's hair and skin are finally dry for the first time since the day he arrived, though he's still blue in the face. He can sleep in his bed now without wetting the sheets, the bathtub was doing a number on his spine.

But now Pete is bored out of his mind. No TV, no video games, no friends, nothing. He feels like he's being grounded for eternity. All he could do was just lay down on his bed and stare at the ceiling, mind blank. He should probably find a new hobby, he'd play his bass but he simply wasn't in the mood.

Then he remembers Patrick, the person he needs to make friends with. But every time he tries, Patrick just disappears and Pete knows it's not coincidence.

But because he's bored and has nothing better to do he decides to go bother him, just because.

He enters Patrick's room without knocking, knowing for sure that that'll get a rise out of him, but Patrick's not there. Pete scans the room for Patrick but he's nowhere to be found.

Oh well, maybe Patrick has something fun in his room to mess with. Pete invades every inch of Patrick's room for anything that appeared to be entertaining. Nothing interesting occupied the closet, or the dresser, or the space underneath Patrick's bed but that doesn't stop Pete from climbing under it to double check anyways.

He's halfway underneath the bed, thinking he may have spotted something on the far side by the wall. He reaches for it and is so close to getting a grip on it, but when his fingertips are mere inches away he feels someone's hands wrap around his ankles.

Patrick drags Pete from under the bed, making Pete's shirt lift up and his stomach drags along the carpet.

"Ow, fuck, let go!" Pete shouts, kicking his legs and almost making Patrick lose his grip. 

Patrick keeps pulling at Pete's ankles until he's completely out, then flips him onto his back. Pete's belly is exposed, red and irritated, and he looks up at Patrick like he's gone insane.

"What the fuck, Patrick, you gave me rug burn." He whines, glancing down at his reddened skin.

"Why are you in my room!?" Patrick yells, his face flushed in anger.

"Well, uh, I got bored so-" Pete probably should've opened with better reasoning.

"So you came in here and crawled under my bed?" Patrick interrupts.

"Technically, yes, but there was something under there and-"

"Pete, what the fuck is wrong with you? You don't just invade other people's space and mess with their shit 'cause you have nothing to do!" Patrick draws his leg back and kicks Pete square in the ribs.

"Ow! Dammit, Patrick, quit it!" Pete attempts to roll away from the blows but Patrick follows, landing a harder kick to Pete's side. "Fucking stop!"

Pete reaches his arms out, grabs Patrick's ankles and pulls his feet from under him, causing him to drop to the floor, falling flat on his back with a loud thud. Pete sees his chance. He gets up on Patrick, straddles his waist and throws a few punches. Only one is successful though, hitting Patrick's lip and splitting the skin. The others are blocked by Patrick's forearms, protecting his face from any more harm.

Patrick slides backwards a little, freeing his legs enough to get a knee up to his chest and between Pete's legs. He gets his foot through, puts the sole to Pete's sternum and pushes him off. Pete lands on his back and now has a dirty shoe print on his shirt.

Patrick scrambles over and settles between Pete's legs and is about to swing a heavy fist but Pete grabs Patrick's head and locks his arms around his neck. Patrick's forehead is pressed to Pete's chest, he flails his arms then fists his hands into Pete's shirt.

Pete wraps his legs around Patrick's waist and hangs on tightly. The younger lifts up as Pete clings to Patrick's torso, raising Pete several inches off the floor and then slamming him back down. He repeats the action again and again and Pete groans in pain every time his spine hits the floor.

"Don't you...ever get...tired?" Pete says between body slams, astonished at how Patrick's keeping up so much strength and energy for this long. 

Patrick lifts up again, loading up another slam, but Pete loses his grip and falls heavily back down onto the floor. He looks up at Patrick, sees him reel his arm back and ball his fingers into a tight fist, and the only thing that Pete could think to do is throw his arms up to block the hit. But after a few moments pass by, nothing happens.

Slowly, Pete peeks from behind his arms to see what the deal is. Patrick has lowered his arm and is glaring angrily at Pete, but he isn't moving and his face is still red and enraged. And there's something in his eyes, something Pete can't quite place, but his pupils are blown so fucking wide that they nearly consume the irises.

Pete sits up straight, leans up and gets just a little too close to Patrick's face, but he doesn't move away. So now Pete wants to figure out why Patrick suddenly stopped the brawl that Pete believed he was winning. But Pete thinks of something better.

Instead he grabs Patrick by his shirt and pulls him down, crushing their lips together. He dips his tongue between Patrick's plump lips and he tastes so unbelievably sweet. Pete doesn't know why he did it exactly but it, somehow, felt logical at the moment. And Patrick kisses back without hesitation, biting at Pete's lips as if he's trying to _devour_ him.

Breaking the kiss, Patrick pushes Pete down onto the carpet and Pete pulls at the button on Patrick's jeans, trying and failing to get them open, but Patrick bats his hands away. Patrick lifts the hem of his own shirt up and sticks it in his mouth, gripping it with his teeth to keep it out of the way. Then he slips his fingers into the waist of Pete's pants, yanking them off in a hurry and tossing them somewhere behind him.

Little does Pete know, Patrick is still very much pissed at him and is going to make Pete regret _everything_ he's ever done. He shoves his pants down to his knees, his hard cock springing out and revealing itself. Then grabs Pete's hips hard enough to leave bruises and lines up with his hole and, oh shit, Pete's eyes widen because he sees Patrick smirk devilishly around the fabric between his teeth.

Pete cries out and claws at the carpet as Patrick presses forward, shoving himself inside Pete's ass too hard, too fast and it's too much for him to handle. Pete's eyes sting with tears, he feels like he's being torn open and ripped apart by Patrick forcing his way in, no lube, no condom, nothing, it's just straight, dry dick and the friction is killer. But Pete doesn't stop him. 

Patrick forces his cock forward until his hips are flush against the other's ass, then he purposely stills, taking in the sight of Pete writhing under him. He wants him to squirm, wants him to hurt, wants him to scream so loud that the entire building can hear.

"Fucking move." Pete says through gritted teeth. He digs his fingernails into Patrick's thighs, breaking the skin and making Patrick groan in pain around the material in his mouth.

He bends down and pulls his hips back, fists his fingers into Pete's shirt for leverage and pulls Pete down towards him, penetrating him deeply on Patrick's cock. He pulls back once more and slams himself into Pete, loving the pained sounds that escape Pete's lips.

Over and over again, Patrick pounds into Pete, picking up a steady rhythm. But it's not enough, Pete needs more friction, needs more of Patrick's cock, needs more of everything. He reaches for his own erection and is about to succeed in wrapping his fingers around the shaft, but Patrick grabs his wrist, putting a halt to his efforts.

Patrick opens his mouth, allowing the hem of his shirt to fall out, and captures Pete's lips with his. When they break apart he growls out, "Not yet."

Then he braces himself against Pete's thighs and picks up the pace, fucking into him at a rapid speed, hitting his prostate on every thrust. This causes Pete to cry out again, squeezing his eyes shut and arching his back off the floor. Patrick marvels at the beautiful curve Pete's body makes, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth and biting down hard enough to taste copper.

Pete looks up at Patrick with pleading eyes. "Patrick...?"

It's enough for Patrick to know what he's asking. Seeing the beg in his eyes, Patrick nods.

Pete gets his hand around his dick and jerks quickly, feeling close already and moaning with the familiar warmth spreading throughout his belly and balls. Patrick literally lends a hand, covering Pete's hand with his own and helping him draw out his orgasm. And then, oh fuck...

"Oh _fuck_!" Pete cums so hard that he sees spots, his release shooting out from the tip of his dick like a volcano and splashing over his and Patrick's fingers and onto Pete's stomach.

Patrick fucks into Pete a few more times and combined with the feeling of Pete tightening around him and the sight of Pete underneath him, legs spread wide just for him and-- Patrick groans loudly as he paints Pete's walls in white, his head tossed back as he rides out the waves of his climax.

Patrick pulls out and collapses, nearly falling on top of Pete but he catches himself, palming his hands onto the floor for support. He's leaning over Pete, skin glistening with sweat and cheeks flushed but not with anger. To Pete, Patrick looks to be more relaxed and when he looks into Pete's eyes, Pete can't help but kiss him again. Though, It's not as desperate or as toothy as the first one.

Pete pulls at the collar of Patrick's shirt to get him to lay on top of him and Patrick does as such, pressing his face into the crook of Pete's neck.

Pete wraps his arms around Patrick's neck, bringing him as close as possible and raking his fingers through his soft hair. Then Patrick curls his own arms around Pete, trapping them between the small of his back and the carpet. 

They lay there for a while, both sweaty, sticky, probably covered in lint from the carpet and it should be gross but neither of them seem to mind. They breath in tandem and simply enjoy each others presence while the moment lasts.

 

***

 

Patrick's previous avoidance tactics were nothing compared to what happened over the next two weeks. He goes completely ghost. Not even Joe knows where he is. And it's not like Pete didn't look for him, he looked everywhere; the library was practically a ghost town, he wasn't in the gym, and the kid's playroom was full of...well, kids. It was nearly impossible to spot anyone in the dining hall, it was packed 24/7 and Patrick's height doesn't make him any easier to find, especially in a crowd.

Until Pete sees Patrick walking down the hallway toward him. Patrick doesn't seem to be paying any attention though, his head is down and he's staring at a piece of paper clutched in his hands.

"Patrick!" Pete exclaims, storming toward Patrick.

Patrick's head snaps up, startled by Pete's voice, and quickly shoves the small paper into his back pocket. "Whoa, Pete, wait-"

But Pete is already grabbing him by the collar of his shirt and dragging into a nearby storage closet.

"Where the fuck have you been?" Pete asks once the door is shut. "I've been looking all over the place for you." He jabs Patrick in the chest with his finger

Patrick sighs. "We need to talk."

"You're damn right we need to talk, asshole. Where did you run off to, why'd you ditch me?"

"Pete, I didn't ditch you. I just needed to-"

Pete interjects. "You needed to get away from me, right?" He crosses his arms over his chest.

"I needed to _think._ " Patrick corrected. "You know just as well as I do that what happened between us wasn't supposed to happen."

Pete tries not to let the words sting. "Patrick, you gave me bruises, rug burn and a very sore ass for three days." He ticks off on his fingers. "You can't tell me that all of that was unintentional. You kissed me like it meant the world to you, and you held on to me like you needed me." He says softly. "People don't do that by accident."

"Pete-"

"You didn't have to fuck me, I didn't force you. It was your choice. Whether it was spark of the moment or not, you wanted me." He crowds Patrick in the already cramped space. "Tell me you didn't want me, tell me you didn't want it to happen and, I promise, I'll leave you alone."

Pete waits for an answer. Patrick is looking at Pete as if he's figured him out, unraveled his forbidden secrets. And he has. Pete sees straight through Patrick like a window.

It's been ten seconds and Patrick still hasn't answered. Hiding in Brendon's room for two weeks proved to be unhelpful. And all the thinking he said he was doing? He was thinking of Pete. No matter how hard he tried to get him out of his mind, Pete was all he could think about. The beautiful sounds he made, the pleasured arch of his back, Pete was fucking gorgeous spread out beneath him.

"Patrick." Pete's voice snaps him out of his thoughts.

"I wanted to." Patrick admits shamelessly. "But that doesn't make it any less of a mistake."

Pete steps back. "So now I'm a mistake?"

"No, Pete, what happened was a mistake."

It goes silent. Pete is looking at Patrick with an unreadable expression and he can't tell if Pete's going to throw a fist or yell at him. But he's unprepared for Pete's lips to be touching his, soft and sweet like before, and Patrick missed the feeling so much that he can't help but give in.

He kisses back, desperate and needy, and by doing so he's not helping his own case. Only proving to Pete that he didn't mean the words he'd said only moments ago.

Pete breaks the kiss and looks Patrick in the eye with a knowing expression. "Do you really believe that?"

Patrick responds by closing the gap between them once more, capturing Pete's lips with his own.

Patrick fucks Pete _hard_ in the storage closet.

 

***

 

Joe looks up just as Patrick enters the dining hall and takes a seat in front of him at the table. "Hey, man, I haven't seen you in ages. Where have you been?"

"Um, I've just been a little... busy." Patrick replies nervously, then leans over slightly to get the small paper from his back pocket. "Brendon told me to give you this."

Once Patrick hands the paper over, Joe reads the handwriting, Brendon's no doubt, that's scribbled onto it:

_Library tomorrow, bring snacks._

"We having a party or something?"

Patrick shrugs. "He said he has something important to talk to us about but doesn't want the entire building to know. And make sure you mention it to Andy too."

"I'll tell him." Joe promises, putting the paper in his own pocket. "So, did you fix things with Pete?"

Patrick hesitates.

"'Cause a little while back, I heard you guys tussling it out in your room when I left for Frank's place." Joe continues. "But it sounded like you two were fighting though."

Patrick's face heats up. "We, uh... we were fighting, at first, but we-we're cool now. I guess."

"It's about time. Are you going to bring him to the library too?"

"Probably not." Patrick mentally leaps with joy for the subject change. "None of you guys know him that well, it'd just be awkward."

"Fair enough." Is all Joe says before he gets up from the table. "Come on, let's go to Frank's, he has a TV."

 

***

 

Brendon is the last person to arrive at the library the next day, which is kind of backwards because he's the one who set up the meeting in the first place, but no one really cares. He brought muffins, candy, soda, and two family-sized bags of Cool Ranch Doritos.

"Alright guys," Brendon says as he dumps the snacks into the pile. "Let's get started."

Everyone that was invited is sitting on the floor in a neat circle. They're the only ones in the entire library and Patrick wonders why it's even in the building, but it's good for when you want to be left alone or just needed silence. Brendon sits between Ryan and Frank.

"So, why are we here?" Joe asks as he grabs a bag of Cheetos, which he'd brought, from the pile in the center of the circle.

"I'm glad you asked." Brendon says cheerfully, then gets straight to the point. "I think we should visit the world of the living."

Everyone stares at Brendon as if he's grown an extra head.

"What?" Andy says what everyone's thinking. 

"Do you know how dangerous that is?" Frank intervenes. "Even if we actually make it there, we might not be able to come back here." Everyone murmurs in agreement.

Frank is absolutely right. Warping between the two worlds can be very dangerous if none of them know exactly what they're doing. And if they run into the wrong person, their soul could be exercised to another dimension or just disappear forever. Staying in a group could lower the chances of that, but the best way to completely avoid it would be to  _not_  go.

"Yes, I know it's dangerous but," Brendon's expression goes from gleeful to saddening. "I miss my family. There has to be something there that you guys have been itching to see again that the risk would be worth it to you."

The boys all look at one another, seeing if someone will speak up. So when no one says anything, Patrick does.

"I miss my parents, and my brother." Patrick says, grabbing everyone's attention. "My mom used to make these awesome pumpkin squares, but I'll never get those again."

"Or those annoying kisses I used to get from my mom." Joe includes. "I never thought I'd miss getting those."

"I used to help my mom cook during the holidays. We'd have big dinners, especially on Christmas and Thanksgiving, and our extended family would come over and bring lots of presents and even more food." Brendon smiles lightly at his own memory.

"I miss Gerard." Frank says.

"I miss our band mates..." Ryan starts.

"...Jon and Spencer." Brendon finished. 

"I miss those rib crushing hugs I used to get from my grandmother." Andy adds.

"Fuck it." Joe says. "I want to go. Anyone who doesn't can stay here and mope around but I definitely will _not_ , so who's coming with me?" He raises his hand in the air confidently.

Patrick raises his up, then Brendon, then the rest of the group.

"Good, then it's settled. But, uh, how do we get there?" Brendon asks.

"You didn't have that figured out already?" Patrick says, grabbing a muffin from the snack pile.

"I thought about it but didn't ask anyone, I was too excited about this meeting."

"Hey, I know someone who could help." Andy pipes up and the rest of the group looks his way. "Hayley Williams up on the sixth floor, she's done this kind of thing before. I can ask her for you if you want."

"That'd be great, Andy, thanks. We'll go next week, we'll make a day of it and if it's successful we can try it again. Maybe invite more people to tag along-"

"One thing at a time, Bren," Ryan interrupts before Brendon gets too excited. "One thing at a time."

 


	2. Warped

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally finished with this! It's pretty bad though, I was honestly slacking and wanted this to be done and over with, but here it is. Any mistakes are my own, blah, blah, blah. Enjoy. ♥
> 
> PS- there's no porn in this part, sorry.

There's nothing worse than death, except for maybe outliving your own children, but a close second would probably be loneliness. No one really  _likes_  to be alone, they only fool themselves into thinking that they do. Why? It's either because it's all they know, or they have no choice. Being forced into an isolated box and separated from the rest of the world makes life hard to enjoy. But togetherness makes everything worthwhile. Someone could be broke, homeless, trapped in an endless whirlpool of depression and anxiety, or starving; have absolutely nothing left to their name, but having another warm body against you in the freezing cold makes you think 'at least I still have you'.

Patrick is Pete's metaphorical warm body. Patrick makes Pete's death more stable and because Pete's family is probably spitting on his grave, like they'd probably do to his face if he still had a beating heart, he could really use the comfort. And in a place that's literally dead from top to bottom, not a single person has spoken to him let alone look his way. It just makes him feel invisible all over again. But Patrick is the only one who sees him.

Yeah, sure, the way they met wasn't a typical first meeting but Pete was never good around new people anyway. And whatever kind of weird relationship he has with Patrick, it confuses the fuck out of him. Friends, enemies, lovers? A made-up combination of the three? Frienemovers? Whatever. Pete wonders what Patrick thinks of this, if he's having a one-on-one session with himself like Pete is. Probably not. Patrick has friends that he could tell his problems to, other beings that can listen and respond to his troubles. Pete can only talk and listen to himself, and give himself terrible advice.

Pete's been sitting in the bathtub for the last hour, uncontrollably dripping water that seems to come from nowhere while he ordered his thoughts. _But_ _is_ _the_ _leaking_ _skin_ _really_ _necessary_ , Pete thinks to himself. Because, seriously, it was annoying as shit and the tub was severely uncomfortable.

While in the middle of sulking in a cold basin, Pete hears a knock at the main door. He guesses that it's Patrick because who else would it be?

"Come in." Pete calls.

Patrick walks inside and shuts the door behind him. He takes a few steps and spots Pete sitting in the tub through the open bathroom door.

"Hey P- um, why are you naked?" Patrick asks once he can see Pete's full body.

"I'm not naked, I'm wearing boxers." Pete corrects. "I didn't want my pants to get wet, so I took them off." Pete glances over to Patrick and notices his shirt is no longer in tatters. "Two months up already?"

"Oh, uh, yeah. I'm not a fresh-dead anymore. It's almost like I never died in the first place." Patrick smiles lightly, taking a seat on the toilet lid. Really Patrick's just glad he doesn't have to deal with that hideous wound for another day.

Pete hums a response, honestly not caring about Patrick's healed flesh. "Lucky you." He deadpans.

Patrick doesn't respond. He knows that Pete is still bitter about his tragedy being written on his body, more so than his actual death. It's clear that Pete had no idea what he was in for when he committed the act. But Patrick understood that in moments of contemplation people tend to think more of what is instead of what will be.

"Can I ask you something?" Pete asks suddenly, looking down at his hands.

"Shoot."

Pete is silent for a moment, hesitating. He looks up at Patrick. "What are we?" 

Patrick is caught off guard. "What do you mean?" He asks slowly.

"Us. What are we?"

Fuck. Patrick hoped that Pete would never ask about them, mostly because he didn't know how to answer, but Patrick also wondered what they were. He hasn't had the heart to go to Joe about it and ask for advice but he did lay awake in his bed, wondering.

Patrick readjusted himself awkwardly, sitting up straight on the toilet lid. "I, uh. I wish I knew, Pete."

"Yeah, me too."

The room goes silent. Pete purses his lips for a moment then sinks down into the tub, laying in the water that has coated the bottom. He closes his eyes. Patrick feels for Pete and he wishes he could discuss how he feels but he's not ready to confess just yet. And because of that, it makes Pete feel unwanted just as before. They're both oblivious to each other's insides.

Patrick feels like shit and Pete wants to die all over again.

 

***

 

As Pete walks through the halls of the building the following day, he passes by some of the other occupants. He sees them walk and talk with their friends and maybe even family, smiling, laughing, hugging, and Pete wishes he could have that too. But maybe he should give up on that wish because, let's face it, Pete's never going to have that.  _Forget it,_ Pete. _Not everyone gets what they want,_ Pete  thinks to himself.

Pete hasn't spoken to Patrick since yesterday and he tries to stay away from him. He keeps to himself and instead of going to the dining hall, he hides out in his room. It seems to be the best option.

 

***

 

Patrick eventually talks to his best friend about his feelings for Pete. He speaks in a hypothetical manner and asks 'what if' questions to avoid putting too much of himself into the discussion. Joe basically tells him to put everything on the table, confess everything to this hypothetical person that Patrick speaks of and see what happens. 

"Dude, if it fails, bail. If it works, take off your shirt." Were Joe's exact words. It sounded ridiculously stupid but Patrick got the point.

Patrick decides that he'll tell Pete how he feels but it'll have to wait until after the trip to the world of the living, he needs some time to think of what to say.

 

***

 

The day of the trip arrives much faster than Patrick expected. Andy checked with Hayley and she agreed help out, so everyone meets up at her place.

."Okay guys," Hayley says. She's standing in front of the boys, who are sitting on the floor side by side. "is anyone here still classified as a fresh-dead? Fresh-deads can't leave this realm until their two months are over."

The boys all look at one another to see if anyone speaks up. Since no one does Hayley continues.

"No? Good. First thing, you can only visit for one day at a time. If you're there for longer than twenty-four hours, then you'll be trapped wandering the earth as a lost soul and you can never return to the dead zone. Second, be careful of who you run into. People tend to freak out when they see ghosts and some are capable of banning you to unknown realms. So stay together, beware of stranger danger, don't get lost, and keep track of time. Questions?"

Everyone's silent.

"Okay good. Since this is your first trip I'll bring you all back within twelve hours, so don't worry about getting trapped. But next time you're on your own. Got it?"

The guys all nod and mutter in agreement.

"Alright, the process is pretty simple. See that door?" Hayley points her finger in the direction of a small door beside her closet that doesn't seem to lead anywhere. "One by one, walk through it. I did all the fancy spell stuff right before you got here to save some time. So... Ryan, you go first, test the waters."

Every head in the room turned to him and Ryan is so nervous that he feels sick. He gets to his feet and slowly walks towards Hayley.

"What if something bad happens?" Ryan asks quietly.

"Don't worry, okay, all you have to do is walk." 

Ryan nods and slowly makes his way to the narrow door. He twists the knob and the door swings open, the pathway is pitch black and it's going to be impossible to see more than an inch in front of his own face. He takes a hesitant step forward, then another, and another. Ryan continues until he's out of everyone's view.

There's silence among the entirety of the room until they hear Ryan's voice echo through the Warp Door.

"Guys, get your assess over here! This is amazing!" Ryan exclaims excitedly.

A huge smile spreads onto Brendon's face then he hops up and runs toward the door. "Me next, me next." He runs straight past Hayley and continues running through the Warp Door hooting, hollering, and calling after Ryan.

Hayley gestures for someone else to go through. Joe gets up and casually walks through the door, then Frank, then Andy, and Patrick goes last.

"Have fun." Hayley says then closes the door behind Patrick.

Everyone else has made it through and were awaiting Patrick.

"Hurry up," Joe calls impatiently. "move faster."

When Patrick finally arrives on the other side he asks, "Where the hell are we?"

"No idea, but we should go to Vegas." Brendon says, looking toward the rest of the group. "I think Spencer and Jon still live there, but let's go see Spencer first." Brendon turns back around and is surprised to see a very familiar door, that wasn't there a second ago, directly in front of him.

"Bren, this is Spencer's place." Ryan says. "Knock and see if he's home."

Brendon lifts his hand to do as Ryan said, but when he brings his hand down to knock on the door his hand goes through it entirely.

"Dude, we're ghosts up here." Joe states.

"It's going to be much harder to make contact with things here than at home." Andy adds.

Brendon sighs disappointedly.

"Why don't you and Ryan go in and see him, we'll wait out here." Patrick suggests.

"Okay, but how?" Brendon asks, completely forgetting that his hand just disappeared behind the door.

"Just go through it." Frank says as if Brendon should've known that already.

"Oh right, right." Brendon goes through with ease and when Ryan doesn't follow, Brendon reaches his hand through the door for Ryan to take. Ryan puts his hand in Brendon's and he pulls him through to the other side into Spencer's home.

"So what do we do until they get back?" Joe asks.

Patrick shrugs. "Don't know. I guess we just sit and wait."

"Well hopefully they won't take too long." Frank says. "It looks pretty late, maybe their friend will be asleep or not at home."

The four remaining boys sit on the stairs of the front porch and await the return of their friends.

On the inside Ryan and Brendon move through the house swiftly, popping their heads through the walls of various rooms in search of their friend. Brendon hasn't seen Spencer nor Jon since before he went into that coma over two years ago, he's surprised that Spencer still lives in this house. 

"Brendon." Ryan calls. "I found him."

Brendon rushes over to where Ryan is poking his head through a wall. Brendon looks along with Ryan and sees Spencer laying in bed but he's not sleeping.  

"Go get a closer look." Ryan says. "You guys were, like, best friends. Maybe he'll freak out less if he actually sees you."

"Okay, but don't go anywhere."

Ryan nods and stays put, watching as Brendon steps through the wall. He walks over to Spenser's side  and examines him closely. There's not much he can tell about Spencer's mood though, his expression is hard to read, but he wants to contact him somehow. Maybe put Spencer's mind at ease by just saying a few words. So Brendon thinks if he tries hard enough, then maybe Spencer will hear him speak. He wants Spencer to hear him.

Brendon kneels down beside the bed and looks at Spencer directly. "Spence." Brendon says quietly. His friend doesn't react so he tries again. "Spencer." He says a little louder this time, but Spencer doesn't hear it.

"Hey." Ryan gets Brendon's attention. "Try shouting in his ear, that seems to work with everyone. Dead or not."

So Brendon scoots closer to Spencer and leans over to reach his ear. "Spencer!" 

Nothing.

"Goddammit." Brendon mutters to himself, leaning back on his heels.

Ryan goes over to his boyfriend and puts an arm around his shoulder comfortingly. "Sorry, Bren."

They both look down at their friend, watching as Spencer begins to slowly drift off to sleep.

Brendon sighs. "We should go."

 

***

 

They all roamed through Vegas, gazing at the bright and colorful lights as they create a luminescent glow around the buildings. The sight should bring Brendon happiness because this is what he's been longing for, to come home again as though he'd never missed out on anything. But what's the point if you can't interact with the surroundings and reunite with loved ones? It just reminds him that he's a spirit trespassing on living soil and will never get to _live_ the way he used to. So he skips out in visiting his family and Jon, it would just bring more pain and sadness.

Patrick, however, still wishes to visit his family as do Joe and Andy. They appear in Chicago in the same manner they arrived in Vegas, Joe and Patrick speak of all the great things that happened. The two reminisce about every event that engraved itself into their brains up to the time of their death that even Brendon barely knew about. He knew they died together but never bothered to ask how it happened.

Soon, they arrive down the street from Joe's old home and he takes in the familiar surroundings, bathing in the memories that smash right into him at the sight. But when they reach Joe's house, they find that it's empty and dark in the way his heart has become.

A 'For Sale' sign is stabbed into the front lawn and Joe can't do anything except stare at it as it mocks him. Patrick looks to his best friend, concerned about how Joe is taking this sudden blow to his gut, but Joe just runs inside the house by himself.

He doesn't know what he's expecting to find but when he sees that the inside is as empty as he is, his eyes begin to sting with tears. He then sprints up the stairs and returns to his bedroom which is also empty, of course, but in its heart shattering scarcity he finds something. From a distance it appears to be a stray leaf of paper, then Joe steps closer to it and discovers that it's a photograph. He kneels down to get a better look at it and sees that it's an old picture of him and Patrick that was taken during their freshman year of highschool. Joe's arm hung around Patrick's shoulder and his other is up at an angle, his hand disappearing behind the camera showing that he took the picture himself. Patrick has a look on his face as though he didn't want to participate but humored his friend anyway. Joe can only stare at it and wish for his life back.

Even though he knows he won't be able to take it with him, he tries to pick it up anyway. He reaches out and attempts to grip it between his fingers but to no avail. Joe continues to try as tears begin to spill onto his cheeks and he can't keep the memory of the picture out of his mind, remembering the exact instance in which it was taken. Just as he thinks he should give up, he tries one last time. And to his surprise, he takes hold of it.

He gazes at it in amazement as he stands, getting to his feet with the photograph in his grasp. Joe wipes the leaked tears with the back of his free hand and smiles, laughing a little at what he's just accomplished. He slips the photo into his back pocket, careful not to bend it, and exits his empty home.

 

***

 

The group decides to walk to Patrick's house because Patrick didn't live too far from Joe, but they would have to hurry because the sun was in mid-rise, or at least it looked that way. On the way there they pass through a small cemetery that had a couple of visitors.

As they walked through, Patrick glanced at the dark-haired woman hovering over one of the gravestones who appeared to look more disappointed than sorrowful. Then Patrick flicked his eyes downward and saw that the grave belonged to...Pete Wentz.

Patrick stopped in his tracks and stood beside the woman, staring down at the stone along with her. _Pete lived in Chicago, too?_ Patrick asked himself. The stone carried Pete's full name along with his date of birth and death. _Pete died in October_ , Patrick observed.

The woman, who Patrick assumed may have been Pete's mother or sister, touched the stone thoughtfully and left the cemetery. Patrick couldn't help but continue to stare at the stone as if it was going to speak to him.

"Dude," Joe's voice broke Patrick away from the stone. "You okay?"

Patrick nodded. Joe looks down at the gravestone and his eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. "Whoa, wait a minute." Joe mumbles, more to himself than Patrick.

He thinks of the old photograph and the memory that came with it and is able to remove it from his pocket. Joe examines it and in the background of the photo he sees a familiar face, Pete's face.

"Patrick, Pete went to school with us." Joe shows the photo to Patrick and points to where Pete seems to be purposely lurking in the background with a blank expression looking directly at the camera, which Joe thinks is kind of creepy. But Patrick can't help noticing that Joe is _holding_ an earth-bound object, but he holds his question of 'how'.

"He must've been a senior or something." Patrick points out. He can't help but feel that Pete already knew him before they died and the thought creeped him out.

"Guys." The two turned their heads toward Frank and a randomly placed door that stood directly in front of Andy. "I think it's time to go." Frank says disappointedly for neither he, Patrick nor Andy had gotten to see anyone, _maybe next time_ , Frank thinks.

They look to the narrow door as it opens on its own, revealing the same pitch black pathway of which they had entered twelve hours ago. Andy enters first, followed by Ryan, Frank, then Brendon. Patrick and Joe look to each other for a moment, then Patrick just shrugs and goes through the door. Joe replaces the photo into his pocket then follows suit.

 

***

 

"How was Hell?" Pete asks upon Patrick's return.

Patrick rolls his eyes and sighs. "A little disappointing, but worth it in some ways."

Pete just nods.

"I didn't know you lived in Chicago, though." Patrick says.

Pete furrows his brow. "How'd you figure that out?"

"We had cut through a cemetery and I saw this woman standing by your grave."

Pete laughs bitterly. "Wow, they actually found a body to bury? I'm surprised they could even see my car in that murky ass water. Anyway, what did the woman look like?"

"Um, she was short, dark hair, blue dress..."

"Sounds like my mom." Pete hums. "Did she spit on it?"

Patrick makes a face of confusion. "What?"

"My grave. Did she spit on it?" Pete asks conversationally.

"I don't think so, Pete." Patrick sighs.

Pete nods once again. "Find any other interesting things?"

Patrick hums in thought. "Joe, uh, found this old school picture of us from freshman year, I guess that could be interesting."

Pete smiles lightly. "I bet you two were happy to see that."

"Yeah," Patrick says. "and by 'us' I mean you were in it, too."

Pete furrows his brow again, confused though it made his face appear angry. "Seriously? That's... wait, you two went to Glenbrook South?"

Patrick nods.

Pete is silent for a moment, his eyes roaming as he tried to remember. "Oh. Oh, I remember! Twelfth grade. There was this wickedly bright flash on that camera your friend had. It was very sudden, and blinding. Small world, huh?" Pete says.

The words in that sentence echoed in Patrick's head, ' _...very sudden, and blinding_.' Patrick would describe the light he saw, that came towards him at the time of his death, in that same exact way, sudden and blinding. Maybe Pete was closer to Patrick's level than he thought. Same school, same city, they apparently think the same, too. It was kind of strange, but also a little comforting.

"So, I've been meaning to ask you something." Pete says suddenly, pulling Patrick out of his thoughts. "Well, more like _tell_ you something."

"Is it about us? Me and you?" Patrick asks.

Pete nods silently.

"I've been meaning to tell you something, too."

 

***

 

A few weeks pass by before anyone decides to go back to the World of the Living, really, it's only Frank and Andy who return.

Patrick had returned a few days after their trip along with Andy to gain some closure, and it turned out that both their families seemed to be doing good, which is what they wanted. They knew that they wouldn't mourn forever and didn't want them to. Both Patrick and Andy were happy to see that.

Frank dragged Andy along, so he wouldn't be alone, to New Jersey so Frank could go see Gerard. He found Gerard in the same apartment that he used to share with him, wishing so badly for Gerard to be able to hear him.

Gerard was inside on the couch, watching some movie that Frank had never seen before. Frank stood between Gerard and the TV and thought of how they used to chill on the couch and watch horror flicks together, the memory made him smile.

"Gee." Frank says aloud and Gerard nearly jumps out of his skin. Frank is surprised that he'd even heard him.

Gerard is looking around the room fearfully because, for one, Gerard has lived alone since Frank had passed away. So who wouldn't be scared shitless if they heard a disembodied voice?

Frank thinks of something else, something with him and Gerard, then speaks again. "Gee!"

Gerard stands from the couch and scans the room some more to find the source of the voice, then it hits him. "Frank?" He says hesitantly.

Frank practically jumps with joy. "Yes, yes! It's me! Oh god, I miss you so much." Frank attempts to hug him, and is shocked to feel some kind of pressure against him.

Gerard feels something latch onto him and knows that the shorter body he's feeling is his dearly beloved. Gerard's face contorts, then he begins to sob inaudibly. "I miss you, too."

"I love you, Gee."

Frank can now hear Gerard's sobbing. "I love you, Frank."

 

***

 

"How did you do that?" Andy asks Frank. "The whole communication thing?"

"Um, well, I just kinda thought of something, like, happy, I guess." Frank says.

"I wish I would've tried that before." Andy sighs. "We should get back, I really don't want to get trapped here."

"Ditto."

 

***

 

Pete's tragedy is finally gone, no more dripping hair and grossly pale blue skin. Pete is so excited and thrilled and happy all rolled into one.

He's jumping on his bed like a five year old, hooting like an owl, and smiling like an idiot. It's the first time Pete has genuinely smiled without being a dick.

When Patrick enters through their conjoined door, he looks up at Pete and can't help but wonder, "What the hell are you so happy about?"

Pete momentarily stops his wild jumping as to respond to Patrick's stupid question. "Dude, I'm back to normal. No more sickly blue, drippy Pete!" Pete hoots loudly then begins jumping again. "Now take off your shoes and get up here!" Pete says.

Patrick makes a face. "Nah, I don't think so, Pete."

Pete stops jumping and puts on his best serious face as to glare at Patrick.  "Get your ass up here and jump with me, Stump."

Patrick rolls his eyes, pulls off his shoes, then joins his roommate on the bed.

Pete smiles then kisses Patrick briefly on the lips, Patrick kisses back and returns the smile.

Pete restarts his crazy jumping and hooting as Patrick joins in, hooting in the same fashion, occasionally bumping shoulders and bodies as they jump together.

Pete never thought he'd be so happy to be dead.

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
